Russian Blue
by Jaxson The Great
Summary: Scout's got himself a little friend.


Morning sunlight fell across an unmade bed, revealing pillows tossed to the floor, blankets kicked away, and sheets tangled around a bare torso of hard muscle. An arm was flung across vision as the slash of yellow light reached a young face, and eyes blearily cracked open.

The room was cluttered and dusty, with clothes and equipment scattered everywhere. But none of that caught his attention as his narrow, warm cinnamon eyes roamed around, until falling on the only thing that had not been there when he fell asleep.

A cat, short-furred and a bluish in color, slept in the crook of his arm, radiating heat as it purred quietly with every exhale. When his eyes fell upon the feline, he smiled and stretched. The cat woke, the gentle purrs dying in its throat as it felt the absence of his arm curled around it.

Scout reached over and gently brushed a hand through the fur on its head, pleased when it succumbed to the feeling and closed its blue-grey eyes, pushing its head at different angles into his stroking fingers, purring more strongly.

After a few moments, Scout drew his hand away and got his naked self out of bed, stretching and yawning and cracking joints the whole way. As soon as he was completely up, the cat moved from its spot to lay back down in the center of the warm spot he had left behind, watching him lazily as it rolled onto its back, absorbing the extra warmth.

"Yeah, drink it in," Scout muttered, brushing his fingertips across the fluffy silver undercoat on the cat's belly. "_Some_ of us have jobs to do."

The cat snorted and twisted into a C, flicking its tail as if to wave him away.

Scout snorted right back, then sighed and looked down at his body, examining the pale purple marks splayed across hips, arms, thighs and shoulders. He shot an accusatory glance at the cat as he poked tenderly at an especially pronounced one, as though to blame it for his bruises.

The cat, a beautiful Russian Blue, watched him through slitted eyes. Then, when the door had snapped shut behind him as he left for a shower, it began its own shower, of sorts, running a textured tongue over its shoulders and chest, and passing its paws over its head and ears until it was satisfied with the resulting shine. It then stretched out, spreading webbed pads wide and yawning, unfurling a pink tongue like a curled ribbon before pulling itself to its paws.

It leapt to the floor and picked its way across the room, sniffing points of interest until finding a suitable pile of fabric-a crumpled red shirt-on which to sharpen its claws. It worked its paws across the material, pushing its claws out to catch the fibers. Its kneading left the shirt covered with dozens of tiny holes, but the cat only sniffed it indifferently and moved on.

It pricked his ears at the sound of footsteps approaching, and leapt nimbly back onto the bed and stretched out in the ever-widening sunbeam, exposing its belly to the ceiling once again. To the freshly showered RED Scout, it looked as though the cat hadn't moved an inch in all the time he had been away.

Scout regarded the silvery cat unhappily. "I've got bruises in places I didn't even know _exist_, thanks to you," he grouched. The cat looked at him coolly from its position on the bed, twitching its whiskers as if to say, _you asked for them, remember?_

"Lazy-ass cat," Scout muttered, shaking his hair dry. A few droplets of water spattered the Russian Blue, and it grumbled low in its throat, voicing its disapproval. He sat down, fishing his shoes from under the bed and pulling yesterday's socks from their innards. The cat eyed him, purring extra loudly, as though trying to prove something.

When Scout was at last dressed in his full uniform and ready to go, he scooped the cat into his arms, holding it so its front claws gripped his shoulder, poking mirroring holes into the light, breathable red fabric, his arms wrapped around its back and his hands holding its back and rear, tail curled around his arm affectionately. Together they exited the room, traipsing casually through the halls until reaching the mess hall.

Scout dumped his fuzzy companion on an empty table and went to find a bowl for his infamous Cereal-For-Scouts, which only Scout himself could stomach, but soon found himself cringing as a claw was dragged across the unprotected skin just below his knee. Turning to stare at the little nuisance, he found himself staring into a very prissy-looking pair of slate grey eyes, demanding he feed it, as well.

Scout sighed and crouched to the cat's level, staring straight into its eyes. "Dont'cha think you're asking for a bit much?" he asked it. "I mean, I let'cha stay the night n' all."

"Mowr," the cat responded, flicking its tail.

"I could'a made you slip out the window, if I wanted to," he insisted.

"Mowr," the cat said again, purring and brushing his chin with its tail. _You wouldn't have._

"Yeah, yeah, I know... but Solly'll rip my skin off if he finds out I'm lettin' ya mooch."

"Darn smart cat you got yourself there, Scout," Engineer said. He'd been watching the exchange from next to the coffee machine. When he spoke, Scout nearly jumped out of his skin, trying to remember if he'd said too much. "Where'd he come from?"

"Oh. Uh..." Scout leapt to his feet, resuming his search for the Cheerios. "Dunno. He just showed up, y'know?"

Engineer shrugged as the cat nimbly leapt up to the countertop, unhappy with Scout ignoring it. "Sure thing, s'long as it don't got any diseases. Might wanna get Medic to check it up..." he looked at the blue-grey cat, staring at him resolutely from its position on the red granite. "On second thought, better not, if ya wanna have a live cat when he gets done with it."

Scout grinned. "Y'read my mind, hard-hat."

"Mowr," the cat said again, looking up at Scout pleadingly.

"No. No way," He said, throwing a bit of butter in a bowl into the microwave. "I ain't feeding ya, ya frickin'... cat." he threw a sideways glance at Engieer, who was still watching, waiting for the coffee maker to finish. "Go catch a mouse, you freakin' mooch."

The cat slunk closer, rubbing its head against Scout's chest and neck, purring loudly, twining its tail around his wrist protectively, and staring at Engineer, who suddenly felt a bit self-conscious.

"Uh... gotta go check on my gear before battle," he said, making himself scarce. "Just be careful around that cat, alright? They can be sly as a Spy sometimes." He was gone.

Scout sighed, pouring the melted butter over the Cheerios. "You're tellin' me," he muttered.

The cat purred ever louder and gave his cheek a lick with its raspy tongue.


End file.
